


The Giant Tamer

by pregnancyscarecrow



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Barebacking, Book: Squire, Breeding, Christmas Party, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fucking, Held Down, High Fantasy, Horniness, Impregnation, Insecurity, Kissing, Large Cock, Meet the Family, Muscles, Nipple Licking, Nobility, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Procreative Sex, Scars, Series: Protector of the Small, Sleepiness, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pregnancyscarecrow/pseuds/pregnancyscarecrow
Summary: Kel offers to help protect her knightmaster from his matchmaking relatives, but can longer fight against her own feelings. Does she have the courage to reach out and take everything her heart desires?
Relationships: Keladry of Mindelan/Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	The Giant Tamer

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts in the middle of Squire and then goes... sideways.

“Why don’t you just bring someone with you, sir?” Kel suggested, in her best reasonable tones. “Your family can hardly keep thrusting eligible girls at you if you’ve brought along one of your own.”

Her knightmaster, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak, rubbed thoughtfully at his neat black beard. He and Keladry were seated at the large claw-footed table in his lordship’s study, going over the duty rosters and supplies lists of the King’s Own. Raoul, normally as cheerful as any village lad, was uncommonly gloomy at the prospect of attending a Midwinter party thrown by his imperious, matchmaking great-aunt. He shook his head sorrowfully.

“No eligible girl would agree,” he declared. “Or if she did, it would be because I gave her the wrong impression. I don’t want to lead someone on like that.”

“What about me, sir?” asked Kel, keeping her voice as casual as she could manage.

Raoul looked at her. “You?”

Kel nodded, her face suddenly feeling very warm. “Well, why not? I’m a girl. I’m eligible. My family’s noble and in the king’s favor, and I’m old enough… well, just about.”

“You’re also my squire.”

Kel nodded. “I know that, sir. But I’m a girl too. I don’t like people to forget that.”

Raoul continued to stare hard at Kel. His sloe black eyes seemed to be measuring every inch of her.

“Is this like the dresses?” he asked.

“Sir?”

“Don’t look so startled. I heard that all through your page years you wore dresses to supper every night. That was to remind everyone there that you were a girl, yes?”

Kel nodded again. As usual, her knightmaster proved disconcertingly shrewd.

“So, I want to know, is this more of the same? Do you want to go to this festering party with me just to show the world that Keladry of Mindelan is a still girl?”

Kel chewed her lower lip, considering. “I suppose, sir.”

“You suppose?”

“Well sir, it’s not just… it’s also… I like you. I mean, you’ve helped me a lot. I want to help you, if I can.”

There was a long pause. Kel could feel the color rising in her cheeks.

“It would help to have you there,” Raoul said slowly. “Though it might start a few unpleasant rumors.”

Kel shrugged this away. “There will always be rumors, sir. It’s like you said. If the people around here stopped gossiping, the walls would fall in. There’d be no wind to keep them up.”

Raoul chuckled deeply. “True enough. Well then, Squire, you may have the rest of the day off to get ready. I’ll come by to collect you at the last bell before supper.”

Kel studied herself critically in the long mirror on the front of her wardrobe. The new dress was good, she had to admit. It was a Midwinter’s gift from Lalasa Isran, once Kel’s maid and now her friend. These days, Lalasa worked in the city as a fashionable dressmaker and had been only too eager to help her erstwhile mistress prepare for an elegant party.

It was at Lalasa’s urging that Kel had let her bronze hair be cropped still shorter, a fashion that was spreading through Corus from the royal university. To Kel’s mild surprise, the effect was sweet and sprightly rather than severe. The dress itself was fine K’miri wool, dyed the color of bittersweet. Coiling garlands were lovingly embroidered in silver at the hem, the waist, and the tunic-style neckline. The dress had a long skirt but no sleeves, leaving the heavy muscles of Kel’s arms and shoulders clearly on display. Kel flexed them experimentally, unsure how she felt about the spectacle. Her sisters would probably have been horrified, but Kel had worked hard for these muscles, and she was peculiarly pleased to show them off.

Kel hadn’t any jewelry or face paint to speak of, but she hoped her face looked well enough without them. Her large eyes were a misty hazel, a dreamer’s eyes, framed by absurdly long lashes. Her nose remained delicate and dainty, defying the best efforts of many an unfriendly foot and fist. She thought that the line of her mouth was a shade too serious, but her lips remained soft and very full, despite the bite of the winter air.

A knock at her chamber door startled Kel out of her reflections. Raoul entered a moment later, then came to a sudden halt as his eyes rested on Kel. Raoul was also dressed for a high society party, though in his case it took the form of a doublet of navy velvet. He was a tall man, towering even over Kel’s five feet and ten inches, with the hard muscles of a knight who made his living in the saddle and by the sword. His face was handsome, at once rugged and boyish, and there was only the lightest kiss of salt in the dark curls of his hair and beard. His blue-black eyes were full of wonder, his lips still slightly parted in surprise.

Kel looked down, suddenly uncertain, feeling foolish and much younger than her fifteen years.

“Squire Keladry,” Raoul said softly, “you look lovely.”

Kel smiled awkwardly up at him. “Thank you, my lord.”

He smiled back. “I think ‘sir’ will do just fine, even at a society party.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kel gratefully.

Raoul nodded. “There’s a coach waiting for us the palace gates. Do you have everything?”

Kel took up her _shukusen_ and tucked it into her sash. Outwardly, the _shukusen_ was just a fan of colorful Yamani silk. Someone would have to look quite closely to notice that its ribs were actually slender steel blades. In the Yamani Isles, ladies carried them to meetings where they were expecting trouble. Kel didn’t expect trouble—well, not the kind that could be solved with steel—but after so many weeks in the field with the King’s Own, she felt naked without some sort of a weapon close to hand.

If Raoul noticed the true nature of the fan, he made no comment. He simply helped Kel into her fur-lined cloak, fastening the silver clasp at her throat, then stepped back to hold open the door to the hall for her.

_He’s treating me like a girl!_ Kel thought, a little disconcerted. _I mean, I more or less asked him too, but still… I hope he can still talk to me like a normal person when I’m wearing a dress._

This nagging worry deepened as they walked together through the silent corridors. Their footsteps seemed to ring unnaturally loudly on the cold flagstones.

“Out with it, Kel,” said Raoul, as they reached the top of the grand staircase.

“Sir?”

“Don’t go all coy on me now, Squire. Something’s bothering you.”

“I just don’t want you to think less of me because of this, sir.”

Raoul grinned at her. “Kel, you’re the sharpest student I’ve ever taught, and the most stubborn fighter I’ve ever met. That’s true when you’re in britches, and it’s true when you’re in skirts. I’m only impressed that you make it look so natural. Whenever I have to get kitted out in velvet and garnets, I feel like a player’s bear.”

Kel laughed, her spirits lifting. Raoul offered her his arm and they drifted down the stairs together, the conversation turning easily to a new law King Jonathan and the Wild Mage were trying to pass, banning the practice of bear baiting.

They arrived at the Disart family’s townhouse just as the first flakes of the snowstorm that been threatening all day began to fall. Raoul got down from the coach and held out his hand, helping Kel to alight.

“Isn’t this a little silly, sir?” she asked, even as she gratefully accepted his hand in hers. “Worrying about whether I’ll slip and fall now, when you spend all day trying to knock me on my rump in the tilting yard?”

“You’re a good squire,” said Raoul, as they drifted towards the open double doors that spilled firelight and laughter into the courtyard. “Let me spoil you for one evening.”

The hall within was filled with nobles from many of Tortall’s most powerful families. A long table against one wall was laden with cold dishes, and servants in the Disart colors drifted to and fro with laden trays of drinks. A fire roared on the great hearth. A claw-footed armchair stood close beside it and in the depths of that chair sat Raoul’s great aunt.

Sebila of Disart was not a tall woman, but she sat as straight as pikestaff, glittering in satin and ermine. She had her great-nephew’s blue-black eyes and her snow-white hair was bound up into a tight bun. Her expression was forbidding, even as she exchanged politenesses with a steady stream of guests.

“Come on,” Raoul said softly, setting his shoulders as though about to step into the grand melee. “We’d better get it over with.”

“Get what over with, sir?” Kel asked nervously, as they began to wind their way through the crowded room.

“I have to present you to Aunt Sebila. No sense in snubbing live dragons.”

“Oh,” Kel said, nervously smoothing her skirts.

Raoul summoned up a smile from somewhere. “Chin up, Squire. She can’t actually eat you.”

They reached the carven chair beside the hearth. Lady Sebila looked up and a faint smile appeared on her lined face.

“Raoul,” she greeted her great-nephew, speaking in the slightly overloud tones of one hard of hearing. “You are looking well. I hope His Majesty hasn’t been working you too hard.”

“The work is always hard, whether Jonathan wills it or no,” Raoul replied, bowing over Lady Sebila’s outstretched hand.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You should show more respect to your king, Raoul, even if you were trained together. ‘Jonathan’, indeed.”

“His Majesty has my loyalty and my respect,” Raoul assured her.

Lady Sebila pursed her thin lips dubiously and turned her attention to Kel. “And who is this young woman?”

“Lady Sebila of Disart, allow me to present Lady Keladry of Mindelan,” announced Raoul, letting his big hand rest lightly on the small of Kel’s back. The touch steadied her, and excited her, sending a warm blush of courage spreading along the length of spine.

Kel bowed deeply, the correct courtly bow for the matriarch of a noble family. Then she wondered if she should have curtsied instead. _Too late now_ , she thought.

Aloud, she said, “I’m honored to make your ladyship’s acquaintance.”

“Well, she has nice manners,” Lady Sebila conceded. “I’m sure you didn’t learn those from my great-nephew.”

“No, your ladyship. I was taught by Master Oakbridge.”

“Upton Oakbridge? The Palace’s Master of Ceremonies?”

“Yes, your ladyship.”

Lady Sebila’s sloe black eyes narrowed. “Keladry… You’re Raoul’s new squire, aren’t you?”

Kel could only nod.

“How old are you, girl?”

“Fifteen, your ladyship.”

Lady Sebila nodded speculatively, looking Kel up and down. “Very good. I am pleased to see that you and Raoul are getting along so well.”

Raoul coughed. “Kel is accompanying me tonight as part of her continuing education in courtly politics and etiquette.”

Lady Sebila’s faint smile returned. “Indeed. Well, I hope tonight proves educational for you both.”

“What did she mean by that?” Kel asked in an undertone as they drifted away from the light and heat of the hearth. Raoul rolled his blue-black eyes.

“My great uncle always said that Sebila should have been an army cook; she loves to stir the pot.”

They helped themselves to cold pheasant and pickled asparagus from the laden table and tall glasses of fizzy pear cider from an obliging footman. Kel could feel herself starting to relax as her belly filled. Raoul too seemed more at ease, now that his interview with the dragon was over.

“Why Keladry! It is Keladry, isn’t it?”

Kel hastily swallowed a mouthful of cider and turned to find Uline haMinch gliding towards her, her kind eyes sparkling. Kel returned the older girl’s smile. She had first met Uline of Hannalof when Kel was a page, waiting on the midwinter revelers at the Palace. Uline had risen in the world since then, marrying into the powerful haMinch family and serving as one of Queen’s Ladies, but her good humor evidently remained unchanged.

“You’ve grown so much taller!” she exclaimed, tilting her head back to study Kel’s face. “I almost didn’t recognize you. And I adore the hair.”

“Thank you, your ladyship,” Kel said, shuffling her feet self-consciously. “You look lovely too.”

Uline certainly did. Her cloud of dark curls was artfully restrained with jeweled pins and her milk white complexion made Kel very aware of her own collection of scars and freckles. Uline brushed the compliment aside with easy grace.

“I’m glad to have run into you,” she confided. “I don’t know House Disart terribly well I’m afraid, though they’re great friends of Kieran’s father. It’s so good to see a familiar face!”

“That would be Kieran haMinch?” Raoul guessed.

“My husband,” Uline said, nodding. “Are you here with Keladry?”

“Actually, I’m here with him,” Kel admitted. “Lady Uline haMinch, please meet my knightmaster, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak.”

“Of course!” said Uline, her face lighting up. “I know who you are, my lord. Queen Thayet speaks of you often.”

“Do you still ride with the Queen’s Ladies?” Kel asked.

“I did, until about three months ago,” said Uline, smoothing her hands over her midriff. Kel noticed then what before had been concealed beneath the layers of ruffled silk: a small, taught curve to Uline’s belly.

“You’re pregnant!” she exclaimed.

Uline nodded. “Our household seer think it will be a boy.”

“Congratulations!” said Kel, embracing her friend.

On the other side of the room, a vielle began to play, and was joined a moment later by harp, flute, shawm, and drums.

“Oh!” said Uline, with an apologetic smile. “It’s time for the dances. I must go find Kieran. Enjoy your evening!”

Raoul stared thoughtfully after Uline’s retreating back.

“A friend of yours?” he inquired.

Kel nodded. “I suppose. And her brother married one of my sisters. And, come to think of it, one of my other sisters is married to her brother-in-law.”

Raoul nodded, his eyes still on Uline’s cloud of curls. “The haMinch’s are a good family to be connected to.”

“I suppose,” Kel said again, her heart sinking.

Something in her tone caught Raoul’s attention. He turned to her and smiled. “Cheer up, Squire. This is supposed to be a party!”

“I thought you hated parties, sir,” Kel said uncertainly.

“With a passion,” Raoul confirmed. “Would you care to dance?”

He passed their glasses to another of his great aunt’s servants, thanked the man, and steered Kel towards the well-polished dance floor.

Hours flew by in a whirl of skirts and velvets and stamping feet. Kel discovered that she liked dancing. It was the same physical rush she felt when she practiced with her glaive or found the rhythm of Peachblossom’s thunderous gait with the muscles of her seat. But it was also more than that. The colors and the music dazzled her, made her almost giddy. She could feel her Yamani mask of seriousness and self-control melting away like rice paper in the rain.

A tipsy nobleman jostled her suddenly from behind and Kel stumbled. She fell against Raoul, clutching blindly. He caught her in strong arms and steadied her. Her knightmaster’s whole presence was wonderfully solid and warm. Kel realized that her heart was pounding.

“Kel, are you all right?” Raoul, keeping his deep voice low.

Kel shook her head uncertainly. She could smell Raoul: pine soap and warm skin and the oils he used to polish tack and weapons. She felt the hard muscles hidden beneath his finery. It made her skin tingle, and awoke a strange ache in her, hungry put not unpleasant.

“I think,” she said huskily, “I think I need some water.”

Raoul nodded and set her back on her feet. They forced a path out of the sea of dancers and found a pitcher of barley water standing on the much-depleted table. Raoul poured out a cup for each of them and for a while they drank in silence.

“Better?” Raoul asked at length.

Kel nodded. “Thank you, sir. I didn’t realize dancing was such thirsty work!”

Raoul laughed. “Give me a couple of rounds in the lists any day.”

“You seemed to be having a good time,” Kel pointed out.

“You know, I think I was,” Raoul agreed, sounding surprised. “A Midwinter miracle.”

Kel grinned. Raoul’s smile was wide and white in his swarthy face. She had to quell a sudden urge to reach up and stroke his curly beard. _Stone_ , she told herself, _I am stone._ But her traitor body knew better.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled the midnight hour. Raoul looked up from his own reflections, taken aback.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. We should get you home.”

Kel nodded hastily to cover her confusion. They made their way to the cloakroom. Raoul caught up Kel’s fur-lined cloak and folded her in it. She sighed involuntarily as his arms went round her. One of his big hands brushed the soft skin at the hollow of her throat as he worked the silver clasp, eliciting a warm shiver. She tried to remember if Neal’s touches, or Dom’s nearness had ever made her feel half so lightheaded. She knew she needed to get a grip on herself, but found she didn’t care to.

She realized she could feel Raoul’s breath against her ear, warm and husky and ragged. _He feels it too_ , she thought. _Why in Mithros’ name doesn’t he_ do _something?_

“Sir?” she asked aloud, not quite sure what she was asking of him.

Her voice seemed to break a spell.

Raoul stepped back and busied himself with his own cloak. For some reason, this just made Kel want to scream with frustration. That hungry ache was growing stronger, a mounting tension in the pit of belly and between her legs. Even her small breasts felt hot and tight. She bit her lip hard and forced herself to follow her knightmaster sedately to the waiting coach.

The cold air helped to clear Kel’s head and she found herself able to relax a little, despite Raoul’s closeness in the coach. The lights of Corus winked and flickered all around them as they drove. The snow was still falling silently, as soft and white as down. Kel sighed and rested her chin in her hand.

“You’re brooding, Squire,” Raoul observed.

“No, I… I was just thinking.”

“Talk to me.”

Kel sat up straighter, trying to organize her thoughts.

“I suppose I was just thinking about Uline again, sir.”

“Ah,” said Raoul, leaning back against the leather seat and propping one elbow against the coach door. “I see.”

“It’s not that I… I mean, I’m not jealous, sir, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“But she has all the things you’re supposed to want. Social station, a rich husband, a baby on the way.”

Kel nodded. “When I was younger, my sisters-in-law told me I would never make a good marriage because I was built like a cow.”

A strangled sound escaped Raoul. “That’s… I’m sorry, Kel. They were cruel to say that and very wrong.”

“Oh, it’s all right. You should have seen Mama when she found about it though. She put the fear of the Goddess into them!”

Raoul smiled. “Yes, I imagine she would.”

“But then she got the idea that was the reason I wanted to be a knight, because I thought I’d never marry. I had to work for months to convince her it was more than that, that I really did want my shield, for myself and for the realm.”

Kel fell silent once more. For a while, the clop of hooves and the turning of the coach’s wheels were the only sounds.

“I would guess,” said Raoul at length, “that your mother was not the last person you’ve needed to convince of this.”

Kel nodded again. “They all think it to begin with, every man I meet. Well, not Neal maybe. And not you. But it’s exhausting.”

Raoul reached out and rested his big hand on Kel’s shoulder. She reached up and wrapped her fingers over his.

“Sometimes,” she said, in a very small voice, “I start to wonder. Not if they’re right, exactly… but about how much of this has become about proving them wrong.”

“Kel,” said Raoul quietly, “I have never known anyone who wanted anything as much or as honestly as you want your shield.”

The simple faith in her knightmaster’s voice loosened something in Kel’s chest that she hadn’t realized was tight. She nodded and relaxed back into her seat.

“Thank you, sir, for… for believing in me.”

The silence was longer this time, but easier to bear. The bulk of the Palace drew nearer, its many windows still lit with Midwinter candles. Kel spoke suddenly, words spilling from her like milk from an upset churn.

“But that’s the thing that bothers me. I _do_ want my shield, but it’s not the only thing I want. People like Joren keep telling me that I should choose marriage and babies instead of my knighthood, but they’re wrong. I mean, they’re wrong twice. I shouldn’t have to make the choice they want, but I also shouldn’t have to choose at all! No one expects a male knight to give up being a father or a husband. Why should I have to give up more, just because I’m a girl? It isn’t right.”

“No,” agreed Raoul, after a pause. “It’s not right. But it’s not inevitable either. Alanna has a husband and children after all, though duty keeps her from spending as much time with them as she might like. But people can always write the Lioness off as an exception. She’s a mage. She’s god-touched. She’s a once a century fluke. Things are different for you, Kel. If you can take what you want, not the half portion you’ve been offered but all of it, then anyone can. That makes you powerful.”

Kel’s heart was beating faster again. She could feel the heat starting in her cheeks, a glow of pride and righteous anger and something more. She shifted in her seat and her long legs brushed against Raoul’s. She struggled with the sudden urge to rub her thighs together, to relieve a little of the hungry ache, now returning with a vengeance.

“And if I wanted… you, sir?” she whispered, “Would you think less of me?”

“Kel,” said Raoul with a groan. “You’re fifteen and my squire.”

“And?” she demanded, leaning towards him. “There are noblewomen my age having babies who’ll inherit coronets and fortunes.”

“Is that what you really want?” Raoul asked, his voice now barely more than a growl. “To make an heir for fief Goldenlake?”

Kel tried to frame an answer but her words died in a moan. Taken aback by her own need and suddenly full of daring, she slid forward until she was half in Raoul’s lap, seized a fistful of his fine doublet, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Kel had no experience of kissing, but her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. It moved hungrily against Raoul’s, soft and demanding. Raoul responded wordlessly, returning the kiss and deepening it, until Kel’s lips were throbbing. She moaned again, and almost recoiled from the sound. Could that really be her voice? Could she really sound so hopelessly wanton? The idea was strangely exciting.

She reached for the inside of Raoul’s thigh, running her fingertips over his hoes, feeling the heavy muscles quiver.

“No,” her knightmaster growled. He gripped the wrist of her wandering hand in his left, and the scruff of her neck with his right, as if she were a naughty puppy.

“Not here,” he ordered. “Not until we reach my chambers.”

Kel swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

They had less than half a mile left to drive, but to Kel the journey seemed to last for years. She all but leapt from the coach and felt like she floated through the halls, buoyed by the butterflies swirling in her stomach. Raoul hesitated outside the door to his chambers, his hand on the key in its lock.

“Kel, I think… hadn’t you better just sleep in your own room tonight? We can talk about this in the morning.”

Kel drew back, feeling as if someone had kicked her unexpectedly in her belly. Her eyes dropped to the flagstones, unable to meet her knightmaster’s blue-black gaze. She’d been a fool. He didn’t want her after all, not like she wanted him. For him the kiss must have been just that, a kiss. A piece of Midwinter’s luck. She schooled her face to stone.

“Yes, sir,” she managed, keeping her voice quite steady.

“Kel, I didn’t…” Raoul began, sounding almost as grieved as she felt. “I’m not trying to… godsdammit all.”

“It’s all right, sir,” Kel said quickly. “I just thought… I mean, I know I’m not much to look at, but somehow I thought…”

Strong fingers gripped her chin and tilted her face up to receive Raoul’s kiss. Kel had never imagined anything could be so hard and yet so tender as her knightmaster’s mouth. She melted into him like beeswax. The hand on her chin slid around to the back of her head, holding her still. His other hand drifted down the length of her spine until it reached the tight, toned swell of her rump. He stroked it lovingly, then seized it hard. Kel gasped in spite of herself and Raoul bit down lightly on her plump lower lip to quiet her. He pulled her against him, crushing their hips together. She felt something hard pressed into her midriff, like the butt of a pikestaff. Her heart was thudding wildly, and her small clothes were getting soaked.

“Inside,” Raoul growled, yanking the door open.

Kel stumbled across the threshold. The beautiful gown from Lalasa landed on the floor in a bittersweet and silver puddle and Raoul’s blue doublet followed it.

“Mithros’ spear,” Raoul breathed, holding Kel at arms’ length to study her body by candlelight.

Kel shifted self-consciously in his grip. She knew her body—all sleek, heavy muscle and stark tan lines—and most days she was proud of it. She’d packed years effort into it, making it swift and strong. But now somehow it seemed pitifully little to offer a lover. Her hands moved involuntarily to hide her small breasts. Raoul caught her wrists and dragged them aside.

“They’re too small…” Kel mumbled, half a protest and half apology.

“They’re perfect,” Raoul said fervently, “Pert and perfect. Look at those nipples! Pink as rosebuds and fat as fresh figs…”

Kel giggled. It was too strange to hear her knightmaster waxing poetic over her nipples! But her giggle melted into a gasp, as Raoul lowered his mouth to her left breast.

Kel’s long lashes fluttered as a wave of pleasure washed over her. She twined her calloused fingers into Raoul’s curly hair, something she’d longed to do for years, and bit back another moan. She felt as if a cord of silk and lightning were running from her breasts to her nethers. Raoul suckled and stroked and teased her, until Kel was panting and her hips were rolling. In desperation, she rubbed herself against Raoul’s hip, but the friction only fanned the fire inside her. She humped harder and the inside of her thigh brushed against the hard bulge of Raoul’s manhood. He groaned, a low rumbling sound that shivered across Kel’s skin.

He relinquished her tingling nipple and straightened. He loomed over Kel as few men could. Her hands slid from his hair to roam over his chest and shoulders. More hair grew here, dark and coarse, and the muscles beneath were like tempered steel. Her fingers found the raised line of a scar running over his upper ribs.

“A stormwing,” Raoul said softly. “Clipped me with its pinion in the Battle of Port Legann.”

A sense of awe filled Kel. This man was a legend, a hero of the realm. To have him here at her fingertips, aching for her, made her almost lightheaded. She bent down and kissed the jagged scar tenderly. She continued to kiss her way down Raoul’s body until she was kneeling before him, her dainty nose all but touching the straining seams of his loincloth.

“I want to kiss it,” she said, looking up at him with dreamy hazel eyes. “Is that all right?”

“Go on,” Raoul said huskily.

Kel reached out and untied the loincloth, and Raoul’s cock swung free. Kel drew in a sharp breath. This monster was supposed to fit inside a girl? It hardly seemed possible. She wetted her lips with her tongue and planted a light kiss on its angry purple head.

“Suck it,” Raoul instructed.

“What?” asked Kel, startled.

“Suck it,” he repeated, “like you’d suck a hard sweet.”

Puzzled but willing, Kel took the tip of Raoul’s giant cock in her mouth and began to suckle. The tasty was strange, gamey and a little sour, but not unpleasant. She leaned forward, taking more of him into mouth, and sucked a little harder. The loud slurping sound made her giggle again. Raoul groaned, as her laughter rippled down his cock, and reached for the back of his squire’s head. Thick fingers closed on her short bronze hair and pain, sharp and sweet, spread through Kel’s scalp. She had the sudden urge to let Raoul pummel her, pummel her the way Joren and his cronies used to, and then kiss her bruises better.

She shivered. Where had that thought come from? Raoul’s hips had begun to roll, driving his hard cock to the back of her throat, but even through a fog of lust he seemed to sense her uncertainty. He released her hair and stepped back, stooping to peer into her hazel eyes.

“Kel? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, sir,” she mumbled, “It’s all just… a bit much.”

“Do you need to stop?”

She shook her head. “No, I want to keep going.”

She reached for Raoul’s cock, which was still stiff with longing, but the big knight brushed her hand aside.

“You need to catch your breath,” he said firmly. “Let me take care of you for a bit, all right?”

Kel nodded eagerly and Raoul drew her to her feet and half carried her over to the bed. She sprawled on his coverlet, her long legs trailing over the side. Raoul removed her smallclothes with a few practiced tugs and knelt. He stroked her inner thighs with his strong hands, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the petal-soft skin. Kel could smell her own arousal on the air now, a musk like a mare in heat. She squirmed, ashamed and excited by her shame.

Raoul bowed his head over her, like a man in a temple. He kissed the chiseled plane of her abdomen, then down over her navel, then down again. His black beard tickled her netherlips. Kel drew in her breath with a hiss. Raoul’s tongue gently parted the folds of her sex and slowly stroked the throbbing pearl of her lovebud. The moan that escaped from Kel’s parted lips was louder and lewder than anything she could have imagined. The sound thrilled her. She reached for Raoul’s curls and wriggled her soaking sex closer, pressing it into his hungry mouth.

Raoul lapped at her like a boarhound at a summer stream. Kel writhed and panted, white hot pleasure consuming her like fire. Sweat glistened on her freckled skin and still the furnace in her roared. She grabbed at her own small breasts, twisting her puffy nipples with eager fingers, desperate for release. Raoul held her hard by her rippling thighs and redoubled his efforts.

Kel’s body exploded in ecstasy. Her spine arched and her vision swam, and she would have screamed if she could have found the breath. Instead she was gurgling brokenly, when Raoul’s lips closed on her lovebud like a sudden fist.

“Oh!” Kel gasped, “oh, oh, oh. Oh, sir!”

Lightning flowed through her in an endless torrent as he suckled. She clawed blindly at the coverlet and her hazel eyes rolled madly. She clenched Raoul to her with her long legs. She could remember his name, but not her own.

When at last she returned to herself, Kel was sprawled full-length on her knightmaster’s bed. Her body was tingling, and her mind felt beautifully empty. Raoul was looming over her, concern in his blue-black eyes. He reached out to stroke her cheek with a calloused thumb. Kel smiled dreamily at him.

“Did you mean it, sir?” she asked. Her words were soft and a little slurred.

“What’s that?” Raoul rumbled.

“About making an heir with me?”

Raoul went stock still, all save for his cock, which twitched like the flank of an impatient stallion.

“You’re love drunk, Kel. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Kel pondered that for a moment, watching the candle burning in the window while her hands drifted absently over the hard muscles of her abdomen and soft buds of her breasts.

“I don’t feel drunk,” she said quietly. “I feel like I’m awake, like I’m wide awake for the first time.”

“Kel,” said Raoul gently, settling onto the bed beside her. “Children… complicate things. You should wait until you earn your shield at least.”

“And then? Wait until the realm’s at peace? Wait until the conservatives accept me? Wait until I break my back in some tilting accident, so I can put myself out to pasture like an old warhorse?”

Raoul was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned over and kissed Kel so sweetly that she thought her heart might beat its way out of her chest.

“You really want this?” he asked softly, holding her gaze with his sloe-black eyes.

She could only nod.

“Tell me,” he insisted. His big hand drifted to her sex, still a sticky mess of her own juices and growing slicker by the second. He stroked her lingeringly and then slid two thick fingers into her up to the knuckles. Kel moaned and her lashes fluttered.

“I want this, sir,” she told him. “I want to have your children. I want us to raise young giants, a whole clan of them… no, a horde. A huge laughing, brawling horde.”

Raoul’s fingers coaxed and curled inside her, while his other hand stroked Kel’s hair.

“You don’t mind that the father of your children will be old enough to be _your_ father?”

“No,” Kel panted. Her hips rolled restlessly as the fingering rekindled the furnace inside. Dizzy sparks were already crowding behind her eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re so strong. And so good to me. You’re the… the best man I know, and I just want… I just want to make you proud.”

Her voice broke on the last word and now she could only whimper. Raoul leaned down for another kiss. The smell of him, pine and polish and sweat, enfolded her. She melted in the heat of his mouth.

“It’s happening,” she gasped, as she came up for air. “It’s happening again.”

“Let it,” Raoul instructed, his voice a deep, velvety purr. “Come for me, squire. Come all over my fingers with the wanton little girl you are.”

Kel spasmed and shook, and clung to her knightmaster, burying her face in his broad shoulder as another climax tore through her. He held her and petted her, whispering soft nonsense syllables, as if she were a spooked colt. Gradually, her breathing steadied and her muscles relaxed. Bliss, pink and warm, spread through her limbs in the lightning’s wake. She felt slow and heavy and utterly content.

But Raoul wasn’t done with her yet.

He kissed her, first on each temple and then on her lips, and then tumbled her over with strong arms. She lay on her belly, her chin resting among the eiderdown pillows. Raoul knelt above and behind her, his long shadow playing over her as the candle flickered. He began at the nape of her neck with small, circular motions of both thumbs and the heels of palms. He moved down across her shoulders, working the heavy muscles like wax. The rosy bliss deepened as he continued down the length of her spine, until Kel’s whole body felt like one long, glorious sunrise.

She sighed happily. Raoul chuckled and grabbed her rump with both hands. He kneaded it greedily, savoring the bounce and swell.

“Enjoying yourself, sir?” asked Kel, giving her hips a playful wiggle.

“Your rump is the stuff of daydreams, Kel,” said Raoul seriously. “Taught as a drum and soft as butter.”

“Wide as a barn door?” Kel suggested.

“A temple door,” Raoul corrected. “This a holy fundament.”

He spread her thick thighs with strong hands and Kel arched her spine, just a little, to give him easy access to her tingling sex. He rubbed it with his thumb, testing her slickness and causing Kel to bite her lip against a fresh shudder of pleasure. She drew the eiderdown pillow closer and gripped it tightly in both hands. Raoul took hold of her hips and Kel felt the broad head of his cock pressing against her dripping sex.

“Please,” she whispered.

He pressed into her slowly. Kel had broken her hymen on horseback early on in page years, but her sex was still wickedly tight. It fought Raoul’s fat cock for every inch. Pressure and pleasure and pain bore down on her inexorably. Kel hid her face in the crook of her arm and whimpered softly.

Raoul drew back and then thrust in again, harder and deeper. Her sex clenched against him and edges of her vision blurred. Again he thrust, and again, the weight of his powerful body pressing her hips hard into the mattress. She could hear him panting above her, his wild need obvious and unaffected. Still, he moved glacially slowly. Kel didn’t know if he was savoring her or torturing her, but she didn’t think she could take much more of it.

On the next thrust, Raoul cock slid home up to the hilt. Kel could feel his heavy balls slap the soft lips of her sex. She moaned in pleasure and in wonder. Never in her young life had she imagined she feel so full, so absolutely replete. And yet…

“More,” she panted. “Give me more.”

Raoul’s grip on her hips tightened and his pace increased. Kel whimpered in relief. She felt her strong back arching up to meet Raoul’s every stroke, even as he pounded her face first into the eiderdown. Pleasure drove out pain, or pain became pleasure—Kel couldn’t say which. She was young and tight and full, and it was good.

Kel came for a third time and came hard. Her sex clenched around Raoul’s thick cock and dark stars burst behind her eyes. Raoul responded with a snarl and renewed vigor. Kel gasped for breath, trapped beneath her knightmaster’s onslaught. Her whole body felt like a runaway horse, dragging her along through a storm of relentless sensation. A wail rose in her throat, only to emerge as a moan. Ecstasy strangled terror.

“Yes,” she gasped, “Yes, harder. Hold me down. Knock me up!”

Raoul leaned into her and grabbed the back of her head with his big hand, pressing her face into the pillows. He clung to her, to her wide hips and her short hair, and their bodies shuddered together. Heat poured into Kel and melted her.

She had never been farther from stone.

She lay in a happy puddle, aftershocks playing over her skin like lazy ripples. Raoul rolled over and lay beside her. Kel turned her head to grin at him. A sheen of sweat had damped his dark hair and made his heavy muscles gleam.

“Better than a round in the lists?” she asked him.

Raoul laughed, deep and merry. “A thousand times better.”

Kel wriggled closer to him and he slid his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the distant drum of his heartbeat. The candle in the window was burning low. She felt her eyelids growing heavy.

“After this…” Kel said slowly. “After this, things will be different, won’t they?”

“Yes,” Raoul agreed, reaching up to stroke her hair. “Things will be different. Harder, but sweeter. That’s what always happens when you let someone into your heart.”

“But you’ll keep training me?”

“Oh yes,” Raoul promised. “We’ll make a knight of you, come Chaos or a cold summer.”

“And you’ll keep… uh, I mean, we’ll keep…”

“Having sex?”

“Well, yes.”

“You want to?”

Kel shifted her hips slightly, savoring the sweet, sticky soreness between her legs. “I do, sir. I really do.”

Raoul chuckled. “I think we can probably dispense with the ‘sir’ while were in bed, Kel.”

Kel shook her head. “I like it.”

Her knightmaster kissed her temple. “You’ve a wicked mind, Squire Keladry.”

“And if I… I mean, if we really do make a baby…”

Raoul kissed her on the mouth this time. “We can talk more about this when the time comes. But no child of mine is going to grow up without a name and a home where they are loved.”

Kel relaxed into his arms and the warmth of his body. She sighed contentedly.

“Tomorrow…” she began, before a huge yawn interrupted her.

“Rest, Kel,” Raoul advised, petting his squire’s drowsy head, “We’ll handle to tomorrow, tomorrow.”

That, Kel decided, sounded like the best advice she’d ever been given.


End file.
